Proving Myself
by Illead
Summary: " 'What are you doing, Matthew.' It was a Saturday, another day at the park, and the odd boy with the bright grin was standing atop the jungle gym again, hands on his hips and looking very proud of himself." Mentions of divorce, warning in advance. Otherwise, read the short author's note at the end of the story.


**Proving Myself**

"What are you doing, Matthew?"

It was a Saturday, another day at the park, and the odd boy with the bright grin was standing atop the jungle gym again, hands on his hips and looking very proud of himself. Alfred didn't get it, what made eight-year-old's do this sort of thing anyway? Sure, it made sense that he was able to climb the thing, but that seemed highly dangerous. Right? It looked almost like he could slip through and get a concussion or something, which he really didn't want to happen. Matthew's father was probably too busy on his phone again, he ran a business.

"Proving myself."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Alfred merely shrugged. His father, Arthur, was reading his book, which had no pictures in it, something Alfred never understood. Why would you read a book without pictures? Pictures made the book more exciting anyway, so it was strange to see his father read line after line of black text on a white page, and usually on old buildings. Most of them were British architecture, and the eight-year-old suspected their move to America wasn't Arthur's idea. Arthur was British born and British raised, but they had moved to America for his mother's health. Thankfully, she was perfectly fine, but that meant no more London, England. To Alfred, it was perfect.

"It just seems dangerous to stand up there like that, your dad won't notice it anyway. What if you fall?"

Matthew's lips quirked into a smile. "Then you'll just have to catch me."

* * *

By the next Saturday, Matthew was sitting waiting for Alfred, once more on the top of the jungle gym. Today, he didn't come with his father, instead his mother took him, though his parents weren't together anymore. Not that Matthew cared, of course, he had seen them fighting often enough to know something was going to happen, and not in the good way. Every other holiday and every other weekend, the blond saw his mother, stayed in the room in her apartment set aside for him. If he were honest, he loved his mother more, mostly because his father was always too busy for him.

"What are you doing, Matthew?"

It was always the same question, _what are you doing, Matthew?_ On days his father took him, he stood atop the jungle gym and tried to prove to his father he was there, by being the tallest boy in the whole park. Granted, he wasn't all that tall, but it sure felt like it above everyone else. One day, he hoped to be high above the air as an airplane pilot or something, something adventurous and exciting. And like always, for the last year, the child replied, "Proving myself."

"Well, can I prove myself with you, then?" Alfred was already climbing up the jungle gym, and by the time he sat beside Matthew, he finally got a good look at the kid. He was obviously troubled, there was a small amount of tears on his face and his smile didn't meet his eyes. "Why were you crying, Matthew?" Obviously, he'd struck a nerve, the Canadian-American was glaring at him.

"I _wasn't crying," _Matthew murmured, looking away, violet-hued eyes closing for a moment. "I was just... Stuck in the rain."

"It wasn't raining earlier today. You're not wet, either. Why were you crying?"

"I wasn't." He left it at that.

* * *

But Matthew wasn't at the park the next Saturday, and Alfred didn't get why. Normally, every Saturday, the three-day older blond was there, on the jungle gym, sitting on it or standing proudly. As he crawled up and sat in the space Matthew usually took, the dirty blond looked around him, trying to find his friend. Well, maybe they were friends... They only ever saw each other at the park, and they didn't talk in school. It didn't seem like something right to do, Matthew didn't want attention from anyone but the Russian kid, Ivan, the Dutch boy a year older, Lars, and the albino German, Gilbert. They were always together. Lars, apparently, had a baby sister the Dutch boy affectionately called Anri. In the middle of his reverie, the American looked down to see Matthew staring up at him.

"What are you doing, Alfred?"

"Looking for you." Alfred grinned to see the golden blond blushing slightly, starting to climb up the jungle gym. Matthew's father was too busy on the phone to notice.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?" Matthew was looking seriously at him now, blush gone.

"Because I said so."

Mathew just shrugged and looked over to his father, a frown softly. "I don't want a new mother."

Puzzled, he looked over to see Francis Bonnefoy, flirting with a woman ten years younger than his 36 years. "Is that why you were crying?" Matthew nodded. "That must be tough... My mom nearly died when we had to come here the first time." Silence. "She got really sick, so we had to permanently move here, though I think Dad misses England."

Finally, Matthew looked back to his companion. "Then why do you sound American, if you were living in England?"

"I was _two-years-old _when we left England, Mattie."

"No one's called me that before... I never had a nickname before." Alfred grinned as a reply.

* * *

The next six years went much the same way, until Alfred was turning 15-years-old, and his father was holding a party for him at the bowling alley. Matthew didn't go to the park as often, but he now went on his own. His father had gotten him a phone for emergencies only, and already 15, he had grown into a slightly effeminate teenager, at least for now. In a few words, one would say he was pretty, and Alfred liked him. _Like liked him, _like a crush. Joining Matthew on the bench, the dirty blond tapped his friend's shoulder. "What are you doing, Matthew?"

"Proving myself." Even after all that time, his response never changed.

"Do you wanna come to my birthday party this year? It's this coming weekend."

Matthew looked up, startled for the moment, before bookmarking his book. "Well... Papa's new wife wants me to help her cook for some family gathering, but I can see. Could I tell you my answer at school, on Monday?"

That wasn't a yes, nor a no... He could work with that. "Sure." The smile the older blond gave made him blush.

* * *

Monday was halfway over when he saw him again, leaving Lars, Gilbert, and Ivan for just a moment, going up to Alfred just before lunch ended, handing him a neatly folded piece of lined notebook paper, his name written in even nicer handwriting that dipped and curled. Without saying a word, he kissed his cheek and rejoined his friends at the table in the back. Opening it, which was folded six times in different ways entirely, he saw a neat little _yes _in the direct center. In response, he grinned to himself.

* * *

The party wasn't as exciting as he had hoped, but when it was just him and Matthew, Arthur offered to drive him home. Hearing that seemed to upset him more, but he nodded blankly. That is, until Alfred told his father he wanted to have him stay over until Sunday morning. Francis probably forgot to pick him up again, and making him go back home so soon seemed so sad. By the time they go to the neat little house that was the Kirklands' family home, Matthew was no better. Alfred offered him a piece of chocolate cake left over from his birthday party. So while Matthew and Alfred were in the dining room sharing a piece of cake, Arthur went to tell his wife they had company.

"Thanks for letting me stay the night, Alfred. Papa's... Away on business and my stepmother isn't that fond of me yet. And... I really, _really _don't know if she'll ever like me, not when I keep telling her I get to see my mom again in a few days." He sighed, finishing the last bite of cake. "Is it alright if I borrow some clothes to sleep in tonight?"

"Sure, Mattie, though they might be a little big on you. Hey... Didn't your mom move back to Canada? How long will you be gone?" Alfred frowned softly, not really wanting to miss seeing Matthew at the park every weekend, like they had been doing since they were seven-years-old. Matthew became a habit and an addiction he didn't want to lose anytime soon.

"I'll only be gone for two weeks, don't worry. You won't even notice I'm gone."

* * *

Two weeks was a long time not to see him again, but when he did see him, the American leaped at him and tackled him a hug, thankfully in the grass. Alfred, who loved football and baseball, was athletic, and Matthew, who played hockey, was not exactly caught by surprise. What he was caught by, however, was how much someone missed him, outside his three friends. Otherwise, Alfred was the exception to who he talked to. Generally, Matthew didn't want to deal with the drama and the anger he got around people who hurt others. "You're back! You have _no _idea how much I missed you!"

Matthew laughed softly, hugging back and finding comfort in someone outside his circle of friends missing him. Since his mother left, he'd not laughed often. Really, he thought she would have stayed and fought for custody, and his father would be the one to leave him. It wouldn't have mattered much if he had, he and his new wife were two people he didn't understand and didn't want to right now, not with his father always on the phone and his stepmother a lawyer. "What are you doing Alfred?"

"Hugging you, of course. You were gone for _so _long!" To this, his companion laughed again, pushing him away gently and rolling his eyes. "What did I do now, Mattie?"

"It was only two weeks, Al."

"So? That's _forever _in my time!"

Matthew was blushing again. "Missed you, too, Al."

* * *

After a while, things smoothed out between them. While Mathew stopped going to the park, unless for running once a week, Saturdays, of course, Alfred didn't need the park to see him. A few years had passed since his 15th birthday, and currently, the more mature blond sat with his legs over Alfred's lap and his head to the back of it. The couch was worn down, yes, but it was enough for him to be comfortable. "Hey, Al, what are you doing? You know, tomorrow night?"

Pausing his game, the American quirked a brow. "Hm? Whatcha mean, Mattie?"

"What. Are you doing. Saturday night?"

"Uh... Nothin', why?"

"I wanted to ask if you'd go to this new diner with me, and see a movie afterwards?" In all this, Matthew had leaned forward, so he was sitting nearly in his lap.

His curiosity piqued, the blond studied Matthew's face. "Like a date?" Matthew nodded. "I'd love to. But... If I can ask a question?" Another nod. "What are _you _doing?"

Matthew grinned excitedly. "Proving myself." Then he kissed him.

_~~~ End ~~~_

**Author's Note****: **To beat a dead horse, I do not, and never will, own _Hetalia_. There's some stories I need to finish up, probably about two with last chapters to go, as well as an epilogue, and one I intend to start soon, a beta project with **Stately Demented**. But, I thought this idea was something I ought to write in the meantime. It's the first thing in a while, I do apologize for that, life just... Got real busy, and still is. I hope you enjoyed, and, as always, thanks for reading. My apologies for how cliche this ended. Just seemed to fit.


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